Sorry for the late update! Lots of work and meetings! I hope you enjoy the chapter.
20 August 1997
Minerva pursed her lips as she reached the top of the spiral staircase. The door to the Headteacher's office was closed and Minerva was suddenly reminded of the dozen times she had knocked on that wood expecting to speak with Albus, argue with him, play chess or borrow a book from his large and enviable library.
He would always cheerfully call her to enter and when she did, most of the time, Minerva would find him sitting behind his desk either studying a book or a crochet pattern. The fingers on his left hand would sometimes be gently twirling the end of his beard, particularly if he was concentrating hard. Occasionally, he would stroke Fawkes who would usually be sitting beside him.
Yet, Minerva knew that she would never again be greeted by this sight. She would never again listen to Albus talk about a particularly interesting book he had found, that she too might enjoy. A hot mug of tea with a plate of biscuits would never again be waiting for her on his desk on a Thursday evening when they usually played chess. And Minerva would never be able to speak with Albus again; not over dinner, not during the day, not even in the morning when they were both rushing to get organised and briefly said good morning to each other as they passed in the hallways.
Minerva swallowed as she finally stopped in front of the door to the Headteacher's office. The office that Albus was meant to be in, and yet one that he would never set foot in again.
She took a deep breath, raised her hand and knocked.
"Come in."
Minerva pushed open the door. The office was almost exactly how she had left it, which was almost exactly how Albus had left it. Several tomes lined the shelves of the room's many, many bookshelves. Albus' silver instruments were gone, though it had been Minerva's decision to remove them from the office and put them in a place of safekeeping. The large desk was still at the back of the room, and the throne-like chair, which Severus now occupied, sat a little behind it.
Severus looked up from whatever it was that he had been inspecting. "Ah, Minerva," he said. "I appreciate you making the time to speak with me. Please, take a seat."
Minerva could not bring herself to say thank you. Instead, she avoided his gaze and went to seat herself in the very same chair she had occupied over the many years when visiting Albus in his office. With tremendous effort, she finally looked up at Severus. The man seemed to have aged a lifetime since she had last properly seen him. And, with his almost translucent skin and cheek bones which seemed pointer and more prominent than they had a few months ago, he looked almost ill.
Not that she cared, Minerva thought. If anything, she was pleased that siding with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had not seemed to have done Severus much good. After cruelly betraying colleagues he had worked with for decades, and even murdering one of them, it was all that he deserved.
Minerva pursed her lips very tightly as she felt a familiar sensation of hurt, grief and anger wash over her all at once. She pointedly avoided looking at Albus' sleeping portrait hanging on the wall, wondering vaguely why Severus would still want it up, then cleared her throat. "You wished to see me?" she said, not having it in her to refer to him as Headmaster, or even utter his name.
"Indeed. I have a few administrative matters that I would like to discuss with you regarding the school."
"I rather think that those two siblings you brought with you would be the best ones to speak to about administrative tasks," Minerva replied coolly. "Or was it not you who gave Amycus and Alecto the shared title of Deputy Headteacher just last night?"
Severus gave her a hard stare. "It was, Minerva," he said. "But I will remind you that we spoke of this change in staff late yesterday evening. I would like you to relay this information, and the new information that I will give you now, to the rest of your colleagues."
Minerva pursed her lips. "If that is what you wish."
"It is." He considered for a moment, then folded his hands carefully on the desk. He cleared his throat. "Minerva, we have worked alongside each other for quite some time, and I believe we have worked well together over the years. I hope that you will be able to maintain this cordiality this year?"
"I rather believe that it is not I that should be reminded of professionality and respect, Severus," Minerva said quietly. She could feel herself bristling with anger, and she tried very quickly to will herself to stop being so defiant. "I expect you can understand that, given our recent history."
Severus' eyes flashed dangerously. "I will not warn you again, Minerva. As I mentioned yesterday evening: this year, is going to be very different to the last. The Dark Lord would have no qualms replacing the staff in this school who cannot or will not conform to the new way of things. Is that understood?"
"So, we should count ourselves lucky to have you here?"
Severus' expression hardened. "Yes, as a matter of fact," he replied.
They held each other's gaze for what felt to Minerva like hours. It was Severus who broke eye contact first. He looked down at the desk and shuffled some papers into a neater pile.
"Is the Ledger in your possession?" he asked suddenly.
"No," Minerva lied. "Letters were sent to prospective students earlier this year. I returned the Ledger to Albus who put it in a place of safekeeping. I cannot tell you where because Albus did not share that information with me."
"Are you sure?"
"I am quite certain," Minerva replied. "Am I to take it that your Ministry intends to ban particular students from attending Hogwarts this year?"
"I am also in need of the names of past Prefects," Severus said, pointedly ignoring Minerva's last remark. "I seem to recall Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley being the last Gryffindor Prefects. How about the Hufflepuff Prefects?"
"Ernie MacMillan and Hannah Abbott."
"Ravenclaw?"
"Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil," Minerva said.
Severus took their names down for reasons Minerva knew not, then cleared his throat once more before looking up at her again. "Very well," he said. "Now, I am aware that there are staff shortages."
Minerva's lips whitened slightly as she pressed them tightly together. "Indeed," she said stiffly.
Severus returned his attention to a piece of parchment sitting on the desk. "Amycus will take the position as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor while Alecto will teach Muggle Studies. Amycus and Alecto will also take on the duties of Correction Officers."
"And what, pray tell, are correction officers?" Minerva asked, closing her eyes briefly as she felt her heart sink. "Are they necessary for the functioning of this school?"
"Amycus and Alecto will be dealing with misdemeanours at the school. Only they will be allowed to punish misbehaving students."
"And how will they be punishing students, if not using the usual methods of distributing detentions?"
"They will deal with students as they see fit, Minerva," Severus replied, avoiding her eyes.
"Severus, might I remind you that this is a school and not a correction facility? I hope that there will be some restrictions in place regarding the severity of these so-called punishments?"
"I trust Amycus and Alecto to respond appropriately to the problems presented to them," Severus replied, and again Minerva felt herself grow cold. "I hope that you will be able to relay this message to your colleagues," he said. "And to your students, when they return to Hogwarts on the first."
"Certainly," Minerva said stiffly. "Is that all?"
"It is. If there is anything else I should need later on, then I shall come to ask you."
Minerva did not wait a moment longer. She got up swiftly and, though she had tried hard not to for the past ten minutes, her eyes betrayed her just before she turned her back to Severus. She looked to Albus' portrait and caught eyes with the man—or painting, she corrected herself quickly—who was surprisingly awake and watching her carefully.
Their eyes locked, Albus's expression sad and somewhat pained, and Minerva felt a familiar twinge in her heart as she was reminded again of the loss of her friend. Overwhelmed by a sudden wave of sadness, hurt and anger, Minerva swallowed and broke eye contact with the painting as she forced herself to turn and leave the Headteacher's office.
She had not cried over Albus for quite some time since his death; Minerva was not one to cry much. Yet, the meeting in what used to be Albus' office, discussing topics that would have Albus turn in his grave, had prompted a surge of emotion that Minerva had not been expecting.
Feeling more alone and more frightened than she ever had before, Minerva was glad to finally reach her quarters several minutes later. With shaking hands, she closed the door and pressed her eyelids tightly together as she tried to compose herself once more